


i can hear you tellin' me to turn around

by Swag_1_Fam_a_Lam



Category: Men's Hockey RPF
Genre: 2015 NCAA Frozen Four, 9k words of matt being a dumbass, Boston Bruins, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Fluff, Getting Together, M/M, Pining, Providence Bruins, ahl, and jake being done with matt's shit, kind of, noel being a good boy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-23
Updated: 2019-06-23
Packaged: 2020-05-18 12:26:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,543
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19334491
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Swag_1_Fam_a_Lam/pseuds/Swag_1_Fam_a_Lam
Summary: “Hey man, so I just wanted to say that I’ve sorted out your whole getting to practice problem,” Jake says, “So I asked Noel and he’s cool with giving you a ride as he doesn’t live too far from you.”It takes a moment for that to sink in.“Excuse me?” he hisses at Jake, who just looks back mystified as he pulls on his t-shirt.“I said Noelie said he’d give you a ride, you’re not too much of a detour for him and he doesn’t carpool with anyone else.”“I know what you said, but why’d you askhim?"





	i can hear you tellin' me to turn around

**Author's Note:**

> Hi! This is the self indulgent 48/55 fic of my dreams and it's approximately 5k words longer than I originally set out to write so...yeah
> 
> Beta'd by @kureally over on tumblr, this fic wouldn't be half as accurate or grammatically correct without her, cheers love, you're a star!
> 
> So, the amount of research I did on when people signed, who was on what roster when was insane, and also very informative. However, I realized that a lot of accurate dates didn’t exactly fit what I was planning for the plot, so I’ve ignored them essentially. There’s only so much historical accuracy I’m willing to bend my plot around and I draw the line here.
> 
> Kudos and Comments are adored, enjoy!

 

They lose the final and it sucks.

He doesn't want to say that they should have had it in the bag, but they were skating well and had the lead going into the third. And then-

And then they’d scored an own goal. To tie it _for_ the Friars.

And then they’d let Providence score another.

And then they hadn’t been able to pull it back, the buzzer had gone and they’d lost.

It shouldn’t hurt as much as it does. Matt’s already won the Beanpot on this ice, they’ve had a good season and there’s been some talk of making the move to the AHL. But it still stings, to know they were so close, and if maybe they had done something different, if O’Connor had just maybe managed to hang onto that puck for just a second longer, if they’d been able to put a couple more shots on net...

It’s not good to dwell on 'what if’s', he knows this. Still he can’t help it as he watches the mass of Providence players celebrate on the other side of the ice. 

In another universe, another reality, that’s them.

But it’s not another universe.

Matt takes a deep breath and hauls himself upright, he’s the captain and right now his team needs him. The bench has all but collapsed in on itself, team members leaning against it, heads down. On the ice to his left, Jack is staring at the other side of the ice, and over by the net MacLeod has his arms around O’Connor.

Matt pushes himself over to Jack, bumping into him with his shoulder turning the other man so he isn’t facing the Friar's celebrations. It’s not that he doesn’t think they should be celebrating, it’s that he doesn’t want to see it.

“That sucked,” Jack says, allowing himself to be moved, “That fucking own goal was the death of us and it wasn’t even on them.”

“Hey, they’re a good team,” Matt tells him, although secretly he agrees, “You can’t say they wouldn’t have come back anyway. Own goal or not.”

Jack mutters something vile under his breath, but doesn’t argue so Matt counts it as a win. He shoves Jack in the direction of the bench, and turns to face the net.

Here’s the thing, there’s an unspoken rule amongst most hockey players - you don’t blame the loss on the goalie. Because no matter how many they let in, there’s always something you could be doing to prevent that loss. Matt knows this, yet there’s still something tight in his chest as he skates over to O’Connor.

“Gryz.” O’Connor doesn’t get any further than that before his voice cuts off, hoarse and upset. 

“It’s not your fault man.” There’s nothing else to say. He knows the goalie won’t believe it, will go home tonight and blame the whole thing on himself. Knows every single member of the team will, himself included.

They join the rest of the team by the bench, and wait until the Friars are ready for the handshakes together. They don’t say anything, after all, what is there to be said that they all haven't thought already?

When the Friars stop celebrating, the officials round everyone up and direct them towards the center of the ice.

He keeps his helmet and cage on, because he’s self aware enough to know that he looks like he’s about to cry, and would rather not put that on full display in front of the cameras. Tonight, when he goes home, he will cry. He just needs to keep his composure for a few more hours.

The handshake line isn’t something Matt’s felt any kind of disdain for before today. He supposes it’s easy to see the good in something when you’re on the winning side. Still, he goes through it, shaking hands, congratulating the other team and letting those he knows pull him into quick short hugs.

He respects these guys, they played a good hard game, and in the end the better team won. That won’t keep him from hating every single one of them for the next few weeks.

He shakes hand after hand, lets guy after guy tells him how well they played, how good the game was. One guy pats him on the shoulder, tells him he did a good job; Matt barely holds back a snort of derision.

The next player in line catches Matt’s eye. His number is 24, and although Matt doesn’t actually know the guy’s name off the top of his head, he does remember getting crushed against the boards in a puck battle with a number 24. It hadn’t been pleasant.

24’s also, he notices, wearing the C, a mirror to Matt’s own, only unlike Matt this guy didn’t let his team down.

Suddenly, irrationally, Matt hates this guy’s guts.

“That was a good fucking game,” the guy says, and actually sounds like he means it, “You guys played hard.”

“Not hard enough,” Matt mumbles back under his breath. 24’s face twitches when he says it, so obviously not quietly enough. Thankfully he doesn’t comment any further and moves past Matt with one last smile that would be better described as a grimace. 

Matt moves forward in the line and doesn’t spare number 24 a further thought.

 

 

 **Grizzy-Chick** [19:34]

_Congrats Mr Number Two Overall_

**Eichel** [20:15]

_fuck off_

**Grizzy-Chick** [20:20]

_It’s something to celebrate, the rest of the team wants to go out and get drunk as hell, you in?_

 

 

Matt manages to mostly put the whole Frozen Four loss behind him. And if his heart hurts a little when anyone says the word _Providence_ , that’s no one's problem but his own.

Still, it seems there’s no escaping Providence, as he receives a call from the Bruins saying they want him to sign. He’s not NHL ready yet,  but the prospect of even _maybe_ getting the chance for a call up to play for his home team is enough for him.

He hasn’t followed the P-Bruins as much as he perhaps should have considering the Bruins own his rights, but when he gets that call, looking up the roster is the first thing he does.

There’s a couple of names he recognizes right away, DeBrusk from the draft and Subban because of his brother. There’s one though, that makes him pause: Acciari. Because he knows that name, he’s not quite sure how, but it certainly rings a bell.

When the google search loads, he recognizes the face almost instantly, number 24, the Friars’ captain from the Frozen Four.

Because of course it is, of all the players for the Bruins to sign, it had to be this one.

  


**Chucky** [15:34]

_i can’t believe i had to hear you signed with the Bruins from twitter_

**Chucky** [15:35]

_the betrayal, i thought we were partners_

**Chucky** [15:37]

_i don’t know if i’m going to get over this matty, i can feel the pain in my heart of hearts_

**Grizzy** [15:59]

_Cheers Chuck, I appreciate it_

  


It’s strange, the differences between college hockey and the AHL, but not so overwhelmingly different that he can’t handle it.

The guys are great, and although he misses his old teammates, he settles in well enough. DeBrusk is one of the nicest, if most childish, players Matt’s ever met, and somehow within an hour of meeting, he’s already been strongarmed into carpooling to practices and games with Jake and his flatmate, Czarnik. Matt actually has a car, although technically his brother owns it, but he takes up the offer, if only to save on gas.

In a stroke of luck, Acciari doesn’t spend as much time in the AHL as Matt had thought he would, constantly shifting between Boston and Providence, although he doesn’t seem to mind.

He's perfectly pleasant to Matt, enough that he almost feels bad giving the guy the cold shoulder. He doesn't ignore him as such, but he tries to be around him as little as possible.

It's petty and irrational, Matt's well aware, but when he looks at Acciari all he can see is one own goal and a missed opportunity.

Jake asks him about it once, and his derision at the answer was expected, if a little harsh.

“That’s dumb as shit man, like I get it, but you can’t still be holding it against him? It was years ago.”

“It was only 2015, and I’m not holding it against him I just…” he trails off, hoping to find the right words but failing.

“Just what? Hate his guts?”

“I don’t _hate_ him, he just reminds me of losing you know,” he explains, but Jake just rolls his eyes.

“He’s a good guy, you should try to get to know him.” Matt nods at the instructions and changes the subject.

He doesn’t take the advice.

  


**Bro** [09:45]

_Hey Matty, you still have my car right?_

**Matty** [13:21]

_Yeah, who else would have it?_

**Bro** [15:07]

_I don’t know, maybe you sold it for some extra cash_

**Bro** [15:09]

 _How would I know since you haven’t talked to me in weeks_  

 **Bro** [15:12]

_Anyway, I’m asking because I need to take it back_

  


It takes a few months, but soon the sequence of practices, work outs and games becomes a routine.

He'll catch a lift with Jake and the boys to the Dunkin Centre, and they'll joke around and insult each other. Danton will place bets on what stupid shit will happen at practice or at the game. It's harmless stuff, five on Sean falling over tonight and ten that Gryz will avoid Noelie again - no one takes that bet, it's an easy loss.  

They've just finished up an optional practice and it's just him and Jake today, as Dany was getting lunch with Sean and Czarny and Frank had skipped out in favour of a charity event.

They're almost out the building when Jake does a full body jerk and almost smashes his bag into Matt’s side. He manages to avoid it with a well timed leap, and gapes at the younger man.

“What the fuck Jake?”

“I just remembered,” Jake says spinning around and stepping in front of him, “I told Anton that I’d let him carpool with us for the next few weeks, but it means there’s not enough seats for everyone, and we figured you’d be okay with finding another way.”

“What?”

“Yeah it’s just that Blidh’s car got totalled, he’s fine but the car’s fucked, and he doesn’t know when he’s going to be able to get it fixed.”

“How am I going to get to practices?” Jake scrunches his face up at the question.

"Didn't you say you can drive?"

“I don’t have a car anymore, my brother took it back.” Jake grimaces.

“That’s sucky timing, shit, I’m really sorry,” he looks genuinely apologetic and anyway, it’s almost impossible to stay mad at Jake, “But there’s no other way for him to get in besides the bus, and I don’t think he’d make it out alive.”

Which okay, fair enough. The public transport system was hard enough to navigate for those born in the area, let alone anyone who had barely been there a year.

“So am I supposed to just get the bus for the rest of the season?” Matt groans and starts walking towards the door, Jake takes a few hurried steps to catch up with him, “I’m going to go crazy.”

Jake pats him on the shoulder comfortingly, “I’m sorry man, maybe there’s someone else who you can carpool with?”

“I’ll talk to the rest of the guys, I don’t think anyone else really lives out my way though.” They exit the building into the frigid winter air, and Matt tucks his face a little deeper into the collar of the coat. The only other person he knows who even lives remotely close is Acciari, but luckily for Matt he was up in Boston for the time being.

From the knowing look Jake sends him, he’s figured this out too.

“Come on,” Matt says, “Let’s go, I’ll work something out.”

 

 

 **DeBrusk** [22:19]

 _Hey u drive to practices right?_  

 **Noelie** [22:23]

_Yeah, why you need a lift? I thought you pooled with Czarny?_

**DeBrusk** [22:25]

 _And u live out near hartford right?_  

 **DeBrusk** [22:26]

 _No one else goes with u right?_  

 **Noelie** [22:26]

_Why are you asking me all this?_

  


Acciari gets sent back down a couple of weeks later, and he looks tired but happy as some of the guys ask him how it was after practice. Matt makes sure to go talk to equipment managers about sharpening his skates to avoid the conversation. 

When he comes back, skates freshly sharpened, Blidh is yammering on to Dany about something Patrice Bergeron supposedly did whilst Acciari was in Boston.

Matt tugs off his jersey, “Are they still talking about what Acciari did in Boston? It’s not that interesting,” he bitches to Frank, who looks incredulously at him.

“You need to like, get the fuck over this whole thing,” Frank tells him as he pulls off his practice jersey and dumps it in his stall, “He’s a nice guy.”

And Matt knows this, has told himself the same thing multiple times. At this point the grudge was a matter of principle more than actual hatred. He elects not to explain this to Frank. 

“Yeah,” he says instead, “I know.”

Frank doesn’t look convinced, but switches up the conversation anyway, turning to Danton to ask something about one timers. Matt quickly chucks the rest of his stuff into his bag, and is about to get the hell out of there, when he’s called over by Jake.

“Hey man, so I just wanted to say that I’ve sorted out your whole getting to practice problem,” Jake informs him, “So I asked Noel and he’s cool with giving you a ride as he doesn’t live too far from you.”

It takes a moment for that to sink in.

“Excuse me?” he hisses at Jake, who just looks back mystified as he pulls on his t-shirt.

“I said Noelie said he’d give you a ride, you’re not too much of a detour for him and he doesn’t pool with anyone else.”

“I know what you said, but why’d you ask _him_?” Jake looks mystified for a couple of seconds before realisation dawns on his face, followed by incredulity.

“Seriously Matt? You’re still holding that grudge?”

“It’s not a grudge.”

“It’s absolutely a grudge.” A fact which Matt has no choice but to concede, because he’s right, “He’ll pick you up before practice on Thursday, it’s better than taking the bus right?”

And he’s right, it is. The bus would take a lot longer than driving does, and it’s always cramped and too hot - it’s in no way the better option.

“Fine,” he grumbles, pushing away from the stall, “But if something goes wrong I’m blaming you.”

Jake’s still laughing when Matt leaves the locker room.

  


**Jakey D** [8:02]

_Practice is at 10 so Noel said he’ll pick u up around 9_

**Jakey D** [8:03]

_Try not to kill him yeah?_

  


Matt is jittery as he waits for Acciari to pull up outside his building. It’s still dark even at this time, and there’s a slight drizzle so it’s a relief when Acciari arrives in a dark silver Honda Accord

He’s tense when he slides into the car and he doesn’t know why. Acciari’s been nothing but nice to him, even though Matt’s been acting like a total jerk the whole time. There’s a local radio station playing softly in the background, and the car smells clean, if a little old. It’s nice, less cramped than when he carpools with Jake and the boys, so that’s a plus he supposes.

Acciari doesn’t talk much, just asks if he’s okay with the radio station, but beyond that the other man seems alright with Matt’s silence. In fact, the only one seemingly not okay with it is Matt himself, and maybe five minutes of vaguely awkward, conversationless driving, he cracks.

“How was it?” He asks, and Acciari jerks his head over to look at him in surprise, before returning his focus to the road.

“How was what?”

“Playing in the NHL,” Matt grinds out, and he’s man enough to admit that maybe the tone is a little on edge, maybe a bit combative. Acciari just laughs though, and shrugs.

“Different. I mean I’ve played up there before, but nothing really prepares you for it.”

“Different how?”

“Everything’s a little bit _more_ you know,” he takes a hand off the wheel to wave around in the air, “Faster, harder.”

Matt’s not five years old, but he has to stifle a giggle at that. Acciari just grins at him from across the car.

“But seriously, it’s great. All the guys up there are fantastic too, always ready to give advice and help you out.”

“Huh,” Matt settles back in his seat and turns the words over in his head. They don’t speak again until Acciari pulls into the Dunkin’ Centre parking lot.

“You know,” the other man says tentatively, “I think that’s the first proper conversation we’ve had since you signed.”

Matt blinks, surprised, because that can’t be true. Except if he thinks back, he can’t come up with one time they’ve spoken more than a few hockey related words at each other. Not necessarily for lack of trying on Acciari’s part, but after the first few weeks where Matt had been pointedly ignoring him, he’d for the most part, gotten the hint.

“Don’t get used to it,” he blurts out, and regrets it immediately. Starting a feud with your team mate, even one who was only here half the time, was never a good idea. Luckily for Matt, Acciari apparently had the temperament of a saint, because he only gives a half grin and a shake of his head.

As soon as the car is parked Matt is out the car and halfway across the lot before Acciari can even get out himself. 

He only feels slightly guilty about it.

 

 

 **Jakey D** [18:23]

_So three weeks in and you haven’t killed Noelie yet_

**Jakey D** [18:25]

_Now that’s what I call: Character Development_

**Gryz** [18:35]

_I’m going to break all of your legs, kiss goodbye to your NHL career_

**Jakey D** [18:37]

:(

 

 

They lose a game against the Reign mid January, and it’s bad.

Things had been going fine during the first period, a little slow on the puck but certainly not poor enough to warrant major worry. And then the second period happens; the Reign score one goal and the whole team just...collapses. It’s one whiffed shot after turn over after giveaway and even the second intermission does nothing to fix it. If anything, they get worse.

The game ends 5-1 to the Reign, and the atmosphere in the locker room is somber. Coach comes in and just stares at them all for a while, watching as they lethargically get dressed.

“Practice tomorrow at ten, we’ll talk about the game then,” is all he says to them before leaving. A couple of guys groan, others sigh in relief, Matt’s just glad to be able to get out of there as fast as possible.

The walk to the car is cold, and he makes sure to wrap his coat tightly around him as he follows Acciari to where they’ve parked. The other man turns the heating on full blast as soon as the engine is on, and by the time they’ve pulled out of the lot he’s warmed up substantially.

As per usual they don’t talk, but the quiet isn’t peaceful like usual, instead it carries an undertone of anger, of frustration, and Matt’s pretty sure it’s all his fault.

The thing is is that he’s angry, he played like shit, the whole team played like shit, and he needs to vent his frustrations at _someone_. And okay, Acciari wouldn’t necessarily be his first choice, but he’s the only one that’s there.

“That,” he says, “was embarrassing.”

Acciari raises one eyebrow, but doesn’t disagree.

“How many giveaways? How many times did we just fail to protect the puck? God there were several times where I should have just gone for it and didn’t, like a fucking idiot.” He continues to lament his own, and every once in a while the team’s, failings.

“It’s not all your fault we lost the game,” Acciari interjects halfway through his tirade, and Matt has to pause a second to process. “We all made mistakes, like, there were several times I could have taken a shot and didn’t.”

“Yeah but-”

“In the second I could have gone harder in the corner and maybe that third goal wouldn’t have happened.”

“That’s not-”

“But we’ll never know for sure, the game’s over man, no point thinking about what you could have done.” Matt huffs and slumps down in his seat, knowing his teammate was right but not wanting to admit it.

“Doesn’t mean we can’t learn from it.”

“I never said that, but insulting yourself isn’t going to do anything either.”

Matt resolutely doesn’t pout. “What do you suggest I do instead then?”

“Second period just before the second goal, when the winger was coming down the right side and you didn’t manage to get the puck, what would you do differently?”

Matt takes a second to think over the question, he has a whole host of possible answers, all based around the idea of doing anything but what he actually did.

“Poke check I think? Or no, I’d maybe move to block off the other forwards shooting lane? I can’t believe I just left him open like that.” He shakes his head in disbelief as he remembers the play, and the eventual goal. Not his finest moment.

“Alright, what about after the second goal, the defender who checked Blidh and there was no one to recover the puck, what could we have done then?”

They continue the discussion all the way home, throwing out misplays before strategizing exactly how they would re-do them without fucking up. It’s soothing, and before Matt registers the time, Acciari has stopped the car outside his building.

“I’ll pick you up for practice tomorrow yeah? Usual time?”

“Yeah,” Matt says as he clambers out the car, “See you then.”

Noel flashes him one last smile before the door slams shut, and the car reverses back onto the road.

Matt stays on the curb and watches until the lights of the car disappear into the night.

  
  


Morning practice runs late, and by the time they’re in the car and pulling out into the busy midday traffic, Matt is starving. He could, and probably should, just wait till he gets home and fix himself a sandwich or something, but for some reason his brain to mouth filter isn’t working.

“You want to grab something to eat?” he asks, causing Noel to do a double take. Matt never initiates conversation beyond greetings, it’s an unspoken rule between them.

“Sure,” the other man says hesitantly, “what do you have in mind?”

“There’s a burger place near my apartment,” he offers. “It should fit in with the meal plan.”

“Alright, tell me where to go.”

Matt navigates the streets of Providence, until they reach the small diner just five minutes away from his apartment. It’s not the most prestigious of places, but it’s clean and friendly, with milkshakes to die for.

They order lunch, and somehow it’s not awkward or boring, there’s no long gaps in the conversation with nothing to fill them. Noel’s funny in an understated way that he find refreshing after being subjected to Jake and Anton’s more childish humour the past few months. They’re able to keep the discussion flowing with only small lulls while they eat, and he’s actually surprised when, some time after they’ve finished eating, to see how long they’d taken.

“We should probably head out.” he says, watching as Noel checks the time on his phone, “Think we’ve overstayed our welcome a bit.”

He nods to one of the waitresses  by the counter, who keeps shooting them unimpressed looks paired with frequent glances at the clock.

They split the bill evenly between the two of them, and even though the ache of practice has begun to set in, there’s a slight spring in his step as they walk to the car. It’s mid afternoon on a weekday, so traffic is light enough that it doesn't take long to get back to his place.

“Thanks for coming to lunch with me.” Matt says as he unbuckles his seat belt, “Sorry if I ruined any plans you had for this afternoon.”

“No plans,” Noel shakes his head with a smile, “I would have said if there was.”

“Yeah well, thanks anyway.” He pushes open the door and goes to get out when Noel suddenly grabs his arm and stops him from climbing out.

“Oh wait Matt? Front office said that the Bruins want me in the lineup for their next few games.”

“Okay?” Matt’s half in and out of the car and he’s a little confused as to _why_ exactly he was being told this now.

“I won’t be able to give you a ride while I’m up there, it’s a stretch on the road.”

Oh. Right. Of course.

For a second the depressing thought of having to get the bus again for the foreseeable future is all he can think about, but that thought is quickly consumed by an overwhelming feeling of disappointment. It takes a moment to place exactly where why.

It’s the idea of not having Noel taking him to practices. Not having that calming steady presence before and after games, the quiet humour and endless patience with Matt’s bullshit. It’s been weeks, months since they started carpooling, and although the other man has been called up in that time, it’s never been for more than a few days, and always only in Boston. This is potentially two weeks, and the thought leaves him out of sorts.

And _that_ fact makes him panic.

“Matt? You alright? I’m sure one of the other guys will let you ride with them.” Matt snaps himself back to reality and nods, hastily climbing out the car as he does so.

“Yeah yeah, I’ll be fine. Thanks for the lift!” He slams the door shut and manages to keep himself from running up to the building and dashing out of sight. Because this? This disappointment? Is a problem.

A big problem, but one Matt’s not sure he knows how to fix, or if he even wants to.

 

 

 **Grizzly** [8:01]

_Hey so my ride has ditched me_

**Czarny** [8:34]

_Aww, Noelie get called up?_

**Grizzly** [8:36]

 _Just please say you have room in your car, I don’t want to take the bus_  


Luckily for Matt, Frank is out on IR for the next few weeks, so he manages to hitch a ride with Austin, Jake and Anton. It should be like it used to, back at the start of the season, before Blidh’s car broke down, and in some ways it is. They laugh at each other, crack jokes and insult the other teams players on the way to a game. But there’s something off about it in a way that it never had been before.

It’s too loud. A far cry from the comfortable silence he’s become used to.

They’ve settled into a kind of routine, over the weeks that Noel has been giving him lifts to and from practices and games. They don’t talk much, but the quiet isn’t awkward anymore and Matt thinks those short journeys are when he’s most relaxed. Sometimes after games they’ll talk over what happened, discuss the goals, the plays, what they could do better next time. It’s, and even now Matt is loathe to admit it aloud, nice; he enjoys those discussions.

He misses them already.

Something must show on his face, because Jake nudges him, mouthing _‘you alright?_ ’. Matt nods and tries to paste a halfway real looking smile on his face,but judging by the frown on Jake's face he doesn’t succeed.

Luckily for Matt they arrive at the Dunkin Centre in time to stall any further questioning, and when he next gets the chance to look at what Jake’s doing, he’s glued to his phone on the other side of the locker room. He’s not going to kid himself into thinking the other man’s going to just let it go, but he’s got some time at the very least.

The game goes well for the most part. Sean goes crashing into the boards during the third and is taken to the room, but other than that it’s smooth sailing. A clean 3-1 win has them all cheering when they enter the locker room afterwards. After Coach gives his post-game talk, someone plugs in the speakers, and plays an upbeat rap tune that some of the other guys sing along too.

He’s almost fully dressed when he pulls his phone from his suit pocket. There’s a text from an unknown number that came through after the second intermission, and he clicks it without thinking as he dumps his skates in their bag.

 **Unknown** [9:39]

_-Video Attached-_

He opens the file curiously.

It’s a video, not the greatest quality but clear enough, of _Torey_ fucking _Krug_ carrying _Brad_ fucking _Marchand_ around the locker room on his shoulder. It startles a laugh out of him when Krug dumps the other man on a heap on the floor, shortly after which the video cuts out.

He clicks replay.

He must stay grinning stupidly at the phone for too long, replaying the dumb video, because Anton shakes his arm from the stall next door and waves his other hand in Matt’s face.

“Earth to Grzelcyk, you in there bud?” he says as Matt whacks his hand away, grin still plastered on his face.

“Fuck off Blidh.”

He saves the number in his phone, fingers hovering over the keypad as he deliberates what to put as the name. He knows who it is of course, although how Noel got his number he doesn’t know.

“Come on Gryz or we’ll leave you behind!” Jake calls at him from across the locker room. Matt inputs the name and shoves his phone into his bag.

“Don’t you fucking dare!”

  


**Matt** [18:01]

_Good luck tonight_

**Noel** [18:20]

_Thanks Matt_

  


They have the night off when the Bruins play the Panthers a couple of days later, and a group of them decide to crash Danton’s place to watch the game.

All of them are drunk, or at the very least on their way there, and whenever the Bruins score a goal they go wild, screaming and jumping up and down in a vodka fueled joy.

When Carlo saves a one timer with his stick, Sean whoops so hard he knocks Danton’s beer flying. At some point in the second period Noel trucks a guy to the ice and all of them, Matt included, roar so loudly the glasses on the table shake.

Matt saves a gif of the hit on twitter later that evening; it’s strangely comforting to know that even in the NHL, the guy plays the exact same game.

  


The text comes through mid afternoon. Matt had been flicking through netflix shows debating the pros and cons of sneaking some McDonald’s into his meal plan when his phone beeps.

 **Noel** [12:34]

_Hey I’m back in Providence this evening, you want a lift to practice tomorrow?_

It takes Matt a minute to reply. It’s been almost two weeks since he’d last seen Noel, and the texts had come every few days. Short videos of locker room hijinks, pictures of the hotels and towns they’ve been playing in out west. He’s saved every single one.

 **Matt** [12:36]

_They making you practice so soon? No respect for NHL legends these days_

**Noel** [12:38]

_All I’m hearing is ‘no Noel, I’ll take the bus tomorrow’_

**Matt** [12:39]

D: 

**Matt** [12:39]

_You wouldn’t_

**Noel** [12:41]

_I hear it’s especially crowded early friday mornings_

**Matt** [12:43]

 _You are cruel and mean, I’m going to tell Jake_  

 **Noel** [12:45]

:)

 

And Matt puts the phone down grinning, knowing that come tomorrow morning everything will be back to normal and he’ll no longer have to listen to Jake singing on the way to games.

 

 

He’s running slightly late the next morning, and so when he hears the car pull up five minutes early he has to quickly yank on his shoes and rips his jacket off its peg. The elevator’s in use, so he skids down the stairs and out onto the pavement.

Noel is leaning against his car fiddling with his phone and looks up at the sound of the door.

“You’re in a hurry,” he says, and Matt feels the smile creep across his face. He’s missed the other man a stupid amount, and somehow he can’t quite bring himself to feel mad about it.

“You’re early,” he shoots back.

“Traffic was good,” Noel says by way of explanation and Matt takes a second just to look him up and down. Noel lets him, waiting patiently.

“Let’s go,” Matt finally says, moving towards his side of the car.

“We’re pretty early,” Noel says as he starts up the engine, “We can grab a drive thru coffee before we head to the rink if you want?”

And yeah, Matt does want, so they make a detour to a McDonald’s drive through. It’s not the world's best coffee, not that either of them expected it to be, but it does the job.

When they get to practice, Jake takes note of the smile on Matt’s face and the coffee in his hand.

Matt can’t bring himself to get annoyed at the knowing look that gets shot his way.

  


**Matt** [11:45]

_Are swedish fish part of the meal plan?_

**Noel** [11:47]

_I’m going to go out on a limb and say probably not_

**Noel** [11:49]

_Dieticians aren’t going to know though_

**Matt** [11: 51]

_Jake said he’d tell Coach if I eat them_

**Noel** [11:52]

_Pretty sure Jake ate a whole packet of oreos last wee_

**Noel** [11:56]

_-image attached-_

**Matt** [11:58]

_You’re literally my favorite_

  


Matt gets the call up to the NHL eventually, and it’s a road game against the Penguins. The Bruins dither around, not actually decided on whether they want him to play, but in the end they call him the morning of the day before the game to say he’s booked on a plane that evening.

The flight out is fine, although he’s jittery with nerves the entire time, and it’s a direct flight so it takes less than two hours. And whilst the airport manages to lose his hockey bag, the helpful customer service clerk manages to track it down quickly with a smile.

When they make it to the hotel it’s late, but a couple of the trainers and one official looking guy decked out in a full suit are around to greet him.

It’s handshake after handshake, and all Matt wants to do is collapse on a bed and sleep. They seem to catch onto this, and all but one head off elsewhere in the hotel, leaving Matt standing there waiting whilst the trainer digs around in a mass of papers.

“We’re putting you with Acciari, you guys know each other from Providence right?” the trainer says, handing him a key card.

“Yeah yeah, we know each other.”

“Awesome,” the guy pats him on the back and gestures towards one of the doors in the lobby, “Through there, up the stairs to the third floor, room 309. If you meet one of the guys milling around don’t be shy but you’ll get to meet the rest of the team at breakfast tomorrow, I’m sure Acciari will fill you in.”

Matt nods weakly and heads in the direction the trainer had pointed. He hauls his bags up the stairs, struggling up to the third floor and along the corridor. He manages to slide in the keycard and open the door without dropping anything, but it’s a close call.

When he pushes open the door, he can see Noel sitting on a bed texting. His head shoots up at the sound of the door hitting the wall, but he smiles when he sees who it is, and Matt can feel some of the tension of the day leave his body at the sight.

“Hey, how was the flight?” He twists around to face Matt properly, dropping his phone onto the duvet. 

“Not too bad,” he dumps the bags on the other bed, and flops down next to Noel. “Felt like I was going to puke the whole time.”

“Nervous?”

“Something like that,” he moves his arm to cover his eyes, “I just want to do well you know?”

“You’ll be fine, it’s just hockey.” A hand settles on his shoulder and squeezes gently. “Come on, it’s late and you should probably go to sleep.”

He’s too tired to argue, barely managing to change out of his clothes into more appropriate sleepwear before he passes out.

 

 

 **Jakey D** [17:55]

_Good luck tonight Matty, we’ll all be cheering you on_

**Matty** [18:27]

<3 <3 <3

  


It isn’t fine.

They lose the game, and somehow it’s more devastating than any of the games he’s played in Providence. It had gone to overtime, and one of the Pens, a third liner he thinks, had just sniped the puck into the back of the net.

And it shouldn’t suck this much, it’s just the regular season, it doesn’t matter in the grand scheme of things, and it’s still a point to add to the total, but he can’t help but be disappointed.

Chara bops him on the helmet as he leaves the ice, and in the locker room Patrice Bergeron of all people tells him he did a good job and not to worry about it too much. Matt’s not a _rabid_ fan, but he’s still a little starstruck at being surrounded by Stanley Cup winning team mates, even if he’s seen them do plenty of stupid shit through Noel’s texts.

When they send him back down on the return from Pittsburgh, it feels a little like failure.

Noel doesn’t even bother to ask if he wants a ride home, just tugs him in the direction of the parking lot with a small tired smile. Matt’s silent on the drive back to his apartment, and the other man doesn’t press him, just turns the radio a little louder.

Matt stares out the window as they leave the city and head down 95. The miles of trees usually bore him, but tonight he finds he doesn't mind so much.

There’s exhaustion crawling through his body, and his bones ache. It’ll be better tomorrow, he knows this, he has practice dealing with disappointing losses, still it never gets any easier in the moment.

They pull up onto the curb outside of Matt’s building, and he doesn’t really feel like getting out. Just wants to melt into the passenger seat of the car and stay there forever.

“You want help bringing your stuff up?” Noel offers, and Matt’s about to decline on reflex, but then stops to think about it. He’d dumped all his shit in the trunk, his personal bag, the hockey bag and the sticks, ready to be dropped back off at the Dunkin’ Centre tomorrow. It’s late, he’s tired, and he really doesn’t want to drag his belongings up multiple flights of stairs by himself.

“Yeah, that’d be great.”

Noel takes most of his bags as they head up to the apartment, and Matt almost drops the keys as he unlocks the door. It’s freezing inside, so he doesn’t take his coat off, just dumps his personal bag on the sofa and heads into the kitchenette to collapse on one of the dining chairs.

“Where’d you want the rest of your stuff?” Noel calls from the lounge area.

“Just dump it on the ground somewhere, I’ll sort it out tomorrow.”

He rests his face in his hands, staring at nothing, listening as Noel moves around the living room, before coming into the kitchen. Cupboards open and close and he thinks he hears the microwave go but he can’t bring himself to check what the other man’s doing.

Minutes, although it could be hours, later, a mug of warm brown liquid is pressed into his hands.

“Coffee?” He croaks, Noel shrugs.

“You didn’t have any hot chocolate.” Matt grips the cup tight and takes a sip. It’s too hot and burns his tongue, he takes another gulp anyway.

“I have practice in Boston tomorrow so I can’t give you a lift to practice, but I’ve asked Jake to come take you,” Noel tells him from across the table.

“Thanks.”

“Get some sleep yeah Matt?”

“I will,” he laughs and shakes his head. “Soon probably.”

Noel gives him a soft almost smile, before turning to go. Matt watches his progress through the apartment, through the living area to the entryway, where the door closes behind him with a muffled click.

He stares at the door for a good amount of time after Noel leaves, and he realises, at that moment, how utterly, utterly fucked he is.

  


When Matt slides into Jake’s car the next morning, hockey equipment in the back seat, he can tell the other man knows something’s up. He doesn’t say anything though, as they pull away, but Matt can tell he desperately wants to.

“Go on,” he groans, “Ask away.”

“I don’t want to ask anything.” The tone of his voice says otherwise.

“The game was fine, exhausting but then it’s the NHL.”

“We were all watching,” Jake informs him, “And cheering whenever you hit the ice.”

Matt leans back against the headrest and chuckles, “I appreciate it.”

They lapse back into quiet, Jake turns the music up louder, a bass filled rap track that hurts Matt’s head.

Here’s the thing: Jake’s still throwing him weird looks, and whilst he doesn’t know exactly why this is, he’d put money on it having something to do with Noel. He’d also put money on Jake having thought up a bunch of crazy theories, from a secret affair to manly pining, accuracy may vary. And when you’ve got Jake started on something, there’s no way to pull him back off it.

“Have you ever,” he says to test the waters, “have you ever been in a relationship with a teammate?”

Jake freezes, hands gripped tight on the wheel as they break at a red light, and Matt hopes he didn’t misjudge this. The light goes green, and the other man lets out a slow breath as he accelerates forward.

“Matty, what are you saying?”

“Exactly what I asked.”

“I...no, I can’t say I have, it was never uh, a recommendation, but you know Gryz, that I love and support you in everything you do.” He says the last bit in an overly dramatic tone, but his eyes are serious when he looks over at him. Some of the tension in his belly dissipates.

“Thanks man.” Jake chews his bottom lip consideringly, and Matt wonders what exactly he wants to say, “Spit it out DeBrusk, we don’t have all day.”

“No it’s nothing, I just.” He raps his nails on the steering wheel, “I gave him your phone number, before that one game.”

It takes Matt a moment to work out exactly what Jake’s talking about, and when he does he’s not particularly surprised.

“Oh,” he says.

“Yeah uh, you looked kind of miserable in the car that night so I thought...well I don’t know what I thought but you’re welcome.” Matt throws his head back and laughs, he feels light inside, apprehensive for sure, but optimistic too.

He knows of course, that the sensible thing would be to ignore everything, squash all his feelings down and pretend they didn’t exist. It’s the NHL after all, and the sports media was vicious no matter who you were. But Matt doesn’t want to ignore it, even with the future as unclear as it is, he knows that much.

He doesn’t voice any of this to Jake, just leans back in his seat, turns the music up, and smiles.

 

 

 

They win a game against Wilkes-Barre, and it’s the first game in a while where everyone’s actually there. Frank was back from injury and Noel had been sent back down from the NHL for the time being. And, since Coach had told them to take the next day off, Jake had declared they should go out and get stupidly drunk to celebrate.

And get stupidly drunk they do.

Matt doesn’t drink often during hockey season, and even during the summer he tends not to go too overboard. This explains, he thinks to himself, why he’s only two beers and a shot in and is already two sheets to the wind.

He’s not necessarily trying to out drink Jake, but he’s not _not_ doing that either. Sadly, Jake is much less of a light weight than he is, and also unlike him, is still mostly upright. Bastard.

“I think that’s enough for you Matty,” the younger man says with a grin, pulling a shot glass over to himself from Matt’s side of the bar. Matt pouts back at him.

“Not that drunk.” He grabs for the shot, misses and almost topples off the chair.

“Go home Matty,” Jake downs the shot and neatly sets the glass on the bar, “You’re drunk.”

“You’re not fun, gonna find someone else to drink with.” He turns to leave, makes it a few steps and crashes straight into someone, and he would have toppled over, drunk as he is, if some guy hadn’t caught him.

“Woah there Matt,” And these days Matt would recognize that voice anywhere. He brightens immediately.

“Noelie!” He shouts, leaning against the other man.

“Matt.” Noel mock shouts back, “I thought you were doing shots with Jake?”

At the mention of Jake he pouts, “He told me I couldn’t do anymore, said I was ‘too drunk, go home Matty’.”

“He said that huh?”

Matt nods, slumping closer to Noel, who takes his entire body weight as if he were no more than a twig. He rests the back of his head against Noel’s shoulder and looks up at him with wide eyes, “I’m not drunk.”

Noel looks at him with an odd expression, seemingly transfixed. Matt meets his gaze unblinkingly until the taller man folds, looking away towards the bar.

“How about we get you home huh?” And Matt doesn’t have the energy to string the words together to say no, so he justs nods into the crook of his neck and doesn’t say anything. He lets Noel drag him out the bar with minimal protest, waving at Jake as they go.

Outside it’s cold, and the slap of fresh winter New England air sobers him up a little. He knows he should move away to stand up on his own now his brain is a little more up to speed, but can’t bring himself to. Instead he continues to lean against the taller man up until they reach the car in the far end of the parking lot. He let’s Noel pour him into the passenger seat, and elects to mould himself against the door, pressing his forehead against the cool glass.

Here’s what Matt learns not five minutes into the drive home: the chill may have sobered him up somewhat, but he’s still drunk enough to open his goddamn trap before thinking.

“I’m sorry I was such an ass to you, back when I first signed.” He slurs from where’s curled up, “Didn’t deserve it.”

“That was a long time ago,” Noel remarks, not tearing his eyes off the road, “And you weren’t that bad.”

“Not that long, coupla months.” He struggles to twist in the seat, suddenly desperate to make sure Noel understands how sorry Matt actually is, “It was really, really bad and I’m really sorry ‘bout it.”

“It’s fine.”

“It’s not. Even Jakey told me I was being a jerk and you were being so nice all the time, and then you let me carpool with you and I was still awful and I never even said _sorry_ and I-”

“Matt.” Finally Noel looks at him, face strangely lit in the darkness of the car, but he can still make out the faint upwards curve of his lips, “It’s fine, I forgive you.”

“You do?”

“I do.”

And then he goes back to focusing on the road, leaving Matt to recline against the car door, close his eyes, and just breathe.

  


**Matt** [10:24]

_I don’t remember getting into my apartment last night_

**Noel** [10:29]

_That’s because you passed out drunk in my car on the way back_

**Matt** [10:32]

_I would say I wasn't that drunk, but my headache says otherwise_

**Noel** [10:34]

_Turn the phone off then you idiot, and drink some water_

**Noel** [10:36]

 _And there’s aspirin by the bedside table too, maybe next time don’t try to outdrink Jake_  

 **Matt** [10:37]

_I wasn’t that drunk_

**Matt** [10:59]   

_Thank you though_

**Matt** [11:00]

_For bringing me back_

  


Neither of them bring up what Matt said whilst drunk the next time they see each other, Matt because he doesn’t quite remember exactly what was said. Nor do they talk about it the time after that, or the time after that. In fact it takes exactly two weeks for Matt to finally bring it up, curious to know what he might have said.

“Remember when the team went out to celebrate the win against Wilkes-Barre,” They’re walking back to the car after practice, it’s cold out and his hands are shoved deep into his coat pockets. Noel turns to look at him as he speaks.

“Yeah and you go so drunk I had to carry you up to your apartment?”

Matt pulls a face at that, “I wasn’t that drunk, just tired after the game.”

“Right,” Noel says a little sarcastically, “What about it?”

“I didn’t...say anything did I?”

The look he gets in return is shrewd, but not particularly worrisome, “You apologised for ignoring me at the start of the season, that was it. You were fine, it was pretty adorable actually.”

“Well that’s not embarrassing at all.” They reach the car and Matt leans against it while he waits for Noel to unlock the doors. “For what it’s worth I am sorry about how I acted, it was rude of me.”

“Honestly I think Schaller acted worse after I won a bet against him and he had to buy me drinks for a week,” Noel says mildly as he digs his keys out of his pockets.

And out of nowhere, Matt is filled with the need to kiss him. To press him against the car and get too close. So he does.

It’s awkward at first, just a press of lips, Matt’s hands are still in his pockets, Noel’s frozen with his car keys still in hand, and he almost panics, thinking he’d made a mistake.

And then the other man comes alive against him, one hand settling on Matt’s waist, the other at his neck to hold him in place, and he’s kissing _back_.

It’s cold around them but all Matt feels, pressed up against the taller man, is warmth.

“Holy shit,” he says when they pull back, both breathing heavily only inches apart. And it’s not that Matt didn’t have some sort of suspicion that Noel liked him back, but it’s still shocking.

“I think,” and it seems to be taking an awful lot of brain power for Noel to string together his sentences, “That maybe we shouldn’t be doing this in the parking lot of the ice rink.”

“Yeah,” Matt mumbles, looking down at his feet, forgetting how close they are and bumping he forehead against the other man's nose, “Shit, I-”

Noel laughs, and uses the hand still on Matt’s neck to draw him back in and kiss him softly once more.

“Let’s go yeah?” He says against Matt’s lips, and it’s all he can do to nod and step away and get into the car.

There's a lot to consider on the way back home. What Matt wants from this - and that's not a mystery to him anymore - what Noel wants - which is much more of a mystery. Beyond that there's his family, the team, he knows Jake would support him, but everyone else?

He's never dated a teammate before, and then there's the problem of the league, the media and both their futures.

The question is, he supposes, will all the problems be worth it?

When they reach Matt’s building Noel kills the engine, and they just sit there in silence for a while. Matt wants to touch the other man, smooth out the worried look on his face and make him smile.

“We,” Noel says, “Should probably talk about this.”

“Upstairs,” Matt suggests.

The walk up to his apartment seems to take hours, and he’s hyper aware of Noel’s movements around him. Even once they enter the apartment all he can focus on is the space between them, less than a yard but still much too far.

They end up in the kitchen. Noel settles against the counter, and Matt, after a moment of consideration, leans next to him. Their sides press against each other from shoulder to hip, and he can’t help but wonder if he made a mistake by not getting any alcohol before they did this.

“You know, up until a few months ago, I didn’t think you even liked me at all,” Noel says into the quiet, and Matt has to huff a laugh at that.

“I didn’t, or at least that’s what I was telling myself.”

“Can I ask why? Or do you want me to guess?”

“I felt...envious? I guess? After the Frozen Four, you were a captain too and, unlike me, hadn’t failed your team. I wanted that.” It’s been almost two years, but his tone still has a thread of bitterness in it.

“You didn’t fail them.”

“I know that now, but back then it felt like I had.” Matt sighs and wipes a hand down one side of his face, “And then I convinced myself you were going to be a dick, but you weren’t and that just made it worse.”

“Made it _worse_?”

“Yeah,” Matt turns toward the counter to look at Noel’s face, “It’s really hard to hate good guys, you bastard, why couldn’t you have been a jerk?”

“Do you want me to apologise for it?” The reply is a soft murmur, and Noel tilts his head down a fraction to look at Matt.

“No,” And he kisses him again. They should _really_ talk about this, about the future and the league, that’s why they came up here after all, but he can’t bring himself to stop.

It’s better this time, gentler and not as rushed. Noel coaxes his mouth open, and Matt has to stifle a gasp when he runs his tongue over his lower lip. He rests his hands against the counter, and one of Noel’s hands cups the side of his face, adjusting it just slightly, until it’s just the right angle.

He pushes closer, moulds their bodies together, and if Matt had his way they wouldn’t stop. But they’re only human, and the need for oxygen is enough to momentarily break them apart.

“The league?” He gasps as Noel presses a line of kisses along his jaw.

"Doesn't matter.” And Matt has no choice but to kiss him again. He doesn't know how long they stay like that, wrapped around each other, alternating long slow kisses and shorter nips and pecks,

“This isn’t,” Matt eventually says between kisses, “Like a one time thing for me.”

“No?” Noel pauses to lean back an inch.

“No, this is like a, take you on dates, cuddle and watch movies, hold your hand kind of thing.”

“Hand holding huh?”

“I’ve been told I’m an expert hand holder,” He waves one hand in front of him, “You want me to prove it?”

Noel just smiles at him and shakes his head fondly, “It’s the same for me.”

“You’re also an expert hand holder?

“No you idiot,” though he reaches out to take Matt’s hand anyway, “This is also like a, take you on dates and cuddle and hold your hand kind of thing for me too.”

He can feel the grin spread slowly across his face as the other man talks, and he’s sure he looks like a moron but can’t bring himself to care all that much, “Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

 Matt laughs, loud and happy and pulls the other man back in closer to kiss him again.

 It feels a lot like winning.

  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> So there we go! I hope you all enjoyed, drop a like and subscribe if you're feeling generous. I'm joking, but comments and kudos are adored <3
> 
> I'm on tumblr at; keep-calm-and-bergeron so come hit me up if you want to
> 
> I do want to quickly shout out @mellerbees for inspiration on the whole Noel giving Matt lifts to practices, I saw it on a headcanon list and loved the idea. Also cheers Providence College for posting one instagram pic that inspired this whole fic, you're the real MVP's let me tell you.
> 
> Cheers!


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